


Training Session

by verfound



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Moana (2016)
Genre: Cold Medicine was Involved, Even the Chicken!, Everybody Lives Rose - Everybody Lives!, Gen, Soundtrack Outtakes, There are too many Disney jokes inside, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:24:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8920549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/pseuds/verfound
Summary: Moana’s tough, sure, but if she’s going to help on his next quest she’s going to have to get tougher.  (In which Maui’s ego Can’t Get Any Bigger, Moana is So Done With a Certain Demigod, and Heihei is Scarier Than Moana.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Post-film, kinda cracky. (And by ‘kinda’ I mean cold medicine may or may not have been involved. B-kawk.) I figured I owed the fandom some giggles. So if you haven’t heard it yet, y’all need to pop over to YouTube/Spotify/etc. and listen to the outtake “Warrior Face”. I swear, I need this song animated and voiced like breathing (like Lin’s grunting and screeching is one thing, but can y’all just imagine Dwayne and Auli’i singing it?). Also, if you haven’t read it yet, MoofieLou has this delightful little romp called The Legend of Moana. The opening here is entirely Moofie’s fault (by which I mean Kekoa may not have been around long but was as loved as Pua in my books).

**_“Training Session, or: Heihei’s a Better Warrior than You”_ **

**_“Or: Sister, I’ll Make a Man Out of You”_ **

 

Sometimes Maui honestly believed Moana had more in common with Heihei than she’d willingly (ever) admit.

 

Seriously.  When he first met her, she was this little scrap of a girl who had stolen a canoe with no idea how to properly steer or navigate it to trek across thousands of miles of open ocean to find him, a _demigod_ , and convince him to restore the Heart of Te Fiti.  Granted, she had been sixteen, and while he knew of plenty of women who were already married and working on their second or third kid by that age, he wasn’t exactly _mortal_ – sixteen was a scrap of time in comparison!  And she was spunky, sure, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought the _kid_ had a death wish.

 

Just like that stupid chicken of hers.

 

Yes, Moana was spunky.  He’d even go as far as to call her brave – because, really, who leaps into the _Realm of Monsters_ so carelessly?  It was one thing when he did it.  He was a demigod, after all.  Immortal, blessed with magical powers and incredible strength, nearly invincible, et cetera, et cetera.  But, as previously stated, Moana was a _mortal_ – and barely past being a kid at that.  Sure, she was a princess (“Daughter of the Chief!”), and a pretty resourceful one at that, but she wasn’t exactly trained or experienced in the realm of monster-slaying.  That was more his territory.  Sure, she had done well enough the first time through.  She had even somehow managed to best that showboating, narcissistic crustacean (after almost getting herself eaten first, though) to get his hook back.  But, even though she had survived, that still didn’t excuse the fact that there were a million and one things down there that would willingly – eagerly – gobble her up as a midnight snack, and she _should_ have died.  Sheer dumb luck (and maybe a little mortal ingenuity, not that he was giving props or anything) was the only thing that had kept them both alive.

 

Which, really, begged the question: why the hell had he brought her back down here?

 

The answer was obvious: he was crazy.  He had to be.

 

It hadn’t even been intentional in the beginning.  He had just mentioned that there was this monster he was tracking, a giant squid-like beast that was terrorizing ships, and he had to drag it back to Lalotai.  Which, obviously, had been a clear invitation for Moana to tag along.  (He felt it important to point out that no, it most certainly _had not been_ , but Moana was Moana and only heard what she wanted to hear, which was apparently, “Hey, Curly, care to accompany me to the Realm of Certain Death?”)  Besides, she had pointed out, shouldn’t they stop in on Tamatoa and make sure he was ok?  Because _of course_ the kid still felt guilty over leaving the crab on his back while they escaped.  It wasn’t like old Glitterclaws had tried to eat her mid-song or anything.  So, naturally, they had to stop back in, make sure he was ok, and scamper off before he decided he wanted to eat them again.  Easy-peasy.

 

Except for the part where it wasn’t.

 

Because of the part where Tamatoa was still a bit cross over, y’know, his leg and getting chucked on his back for almost three years.

 

Because of the part where Maui had had to grab her mid-shift and high-hawk-tail it out of there, only to have a demonic little frog crash into him mid-flight and send them sprawling.

 

Because of the part where Moana then decided, after what she called a “proper chiefly scolding”, the frog was actually kind of cute and wanted to keep it as a pet (“Curly, come on!  Do we not remember the Kakamora?!”).  After it had helped fight off a few other minor monsters insistent upon their sudden, inevitable demise, she had even named it ‘Kekoa’.  (He had insisted on calling it Hāwareware, to which she had replied _Hūpē_ would be a better choice.)

 

He would have been relieved when one of those freaky flytrap things had shot out a tongue and promptly devoured Moana’s newly-named friend had she not, y’know, _proceeded to break down and cry in the middle of Lalotai_.

 

Girls!

 

She had gone charging after the plant beast, intent on whacking it to death with her oar like some possessed Wayfinding Warrior Queen, and he had quickly scooped her up and carried her – kicking and screaming – out of the Realm of Monsters.  He had then dropped her – rather unceremoniously – into the ocean beside their canoe, thinking the unexpected dip would give her a chance to cool down.  He hadn’t been expecting the ocean to hoist her up like some kind of vengeful demigoddess (and no, he was _not_ entertaining that idea, because he certainly didn’t think his poor heart – or ears – could survive an eternity of Moana of Motunui and her Certain Death Wish, no thankyou) only to tip the canoe and knock him back into the water before placing her down safely on deck.  The burbling waves around them almost sounded like the ocean was laughing at him.  Which, given their history, it probably was.

 

The trip back to her island could be categorized as icy at best.

 

“So, uh, I guess I’ll…I’ll see you around, Curly,” he had muttered, and before she could snap at or hit him again he had shifted into his hawk form and flown off.

 

That had been two weeks ago.  He had given her a fortnight to calm down and devise his action plan, because really…he was starting to realize that when it came to Moana of Motunui, he was gonna need one heck of an Action Plan.

 

When he finally returned to the island her people were settling in on, he found her sitting with a group of women under the shade of some coconut trees weaving baskets.  He quickly shifted from his hawk form and dropped down in front of them, landing with his arms folded across his chest and a smirk curling his lips.  After nearly two years of such antics, the other women were only slightly unimpressed.  Sure, they were still impressed by his great feats and magical displays, but they had grown somewhat used to them.  Especially as he found himself visiting their island (future chief) more often.  For her part, Moana continued to look at her basket with a neutral expression.  He raised an eyebrow at her, and one of the other women coughed to get her attention.  If he didn’t know any better, he would say Moana was giving him the cold shoulder.  Which, y’know, was impossible given that he was, y’know, _Maui._

 

“I’m not telling you where Pua is if you’re just going to get another one of my pets killed,” she said.  Ok.  So maybe she was still a bit frosty at him.  She continued weaving her basket, and he blatantly ignored the nervous looks the other women were sharing as he tossed his hair over his shoulder in a gesture of nonchalance.

 

“Y’know, Curly,” he started, “most people eat pork, not take it home and name it Pua.”

 

She glanced up at him, her own eyebrow arching in a pretty good impression of his own expression, and he bent down to grin at her.  Without giving her a chance to speak, he continued: “Besides, I’m not here for Pua.  I’m here because I have come to a decision.”

 

“Oh?” she asked, clearly unimpressed.  He plopped down in front of her, his grin nearly splitting his face.

 

“Yep!” he said eagerly.  “See, the way I see it, there’s no way I’m gonna be able to keep you safe here on this island, right?  Sooner or later you’re gonna insist on coming with me back to Lalotai, or we’re gonna run into something big and scary out there like those Kakamora creeps.  Or worse.”

 

“Your point?” she pressed, and he clapped his hands together.

 

“My point, o Great Moana of Motunui, is that there is absolutely nothing I can do to keep you from danger!” he said.  Both of her eyebrows soared at this declaration, and one of the other women coughed delicately.

 

“Great Maui, you sound a little too… _happy_ about that realization, if you don’t mind my saying,” she said quietly, and he winked at her.

 

“That’s because the best way to treat a problem like Moana is to face it head-on,” he said, and Moana tossed her basket down in what a smarter demigod might recognize as barely contained fury.

 

“P-problem?!” she screeched.  “Oh, I’m a _problem_ now, am I?  How dare you, Maui!  How –”

 

“Woah, woah, woah, Mo!” he cried, holding up both hands to stem her protests.  “I get it, really!  I do!  You’ve had a taste of the excitement of demigod life, so naturally you’re gonna want more.  I mean, what does weaving baskets compare to being awesome, am I right?”

 

“You’re something,” she spat, and he laughed as he clapped again.

 

“Exactly!” he said.

 

“Did you have a point with all this, Maui, or did you just want to annoy me?” she asked.  His grin started to slip.  She almost sounded…mad.  Which was impossible!  It was him, after all!  Moana never got mad at him!

 

…well.

 

At least not for long.

 

“Look, Curly, my point is…” he paused, glancing at the other women.  While most were still working on their baskets, they were definitely a captive audience.  He knew how village life could go, and he was certain that whatever he said to Moana was going to become the next big, juicy bit of gossip among the village busybodies.  So he probably didn’t want to say anything too incriminating in front of them.  He coughed and looked back at Moana, who was still glaring at him expectantly.

 

“Your point?” she bit, and he sighed.

 

“Is there somewhere else we can talk?” he asked, and she placed her basket down to fold her arms over her chest.  Her back straightened, and that stubborn look settled over her face as she glared him down.

 

“I am soon to be Chief,” she said.  Her voice certainly held the authority of one, he couldn’t help but think.  “Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my people.”

 

He frowned.  The women started whispering among themselves, and Moana raised both eyebrows at him expectantly.

 

“So?” she asked.  “Your point, o Great Maui, Shapeshifter, Demigod of the Wind and Sea, Hero to –”

 

“Nope!” he said, grabbing her as he quickly jumped up.  She screeched as he tossed her over his shoulder and marched off down the beach.  If her flailing, the way she was pounding her fists against his back, or the laughing of the other women were any deterrent to his course of action, he certainly did not let it show.  He brought her inland, away from the pesky ocean that was roiling along the shore, and towards a little lake they had discovered upon an earlier expedition into the island’s forested interior.  She was screaming at and assaulting him the entire way, but he knew the lake was far enough away from the village that no questions would be raised.

 

“Maui!  Put me down!” Moana continued to screech at him, and he rolled his eyes as she accentuated each word of her request with another thump against his back.  “Right now, you big oaf!  How dare you –”

 

“Oh, calm down, Princess!” he groaned, grabbing her waist and setting her down before him.  She immediately kicked at his knee, and he lifted an eyebrow as she continued to fume.  “Are you done?”

 

“What has gotten into you?!” she demanded, and he sighed as he stood a bit straighter, crossing his arms petulantly.

 

“Look, I just didn’t want those gossips butting in, ok?” he asked.  At her look, he rolled his eyes.  “You scared me, ok?  And I didn’t want them to know that.  It’s not good for the image, and…you scared me, Moana.  Ok?”

 

That seemed to shut her up.  He finally glanced up at her and was surprised to see the way her expression had softened.  She almost looked guilty, and she definitely looked a bit remorseful.  Good.  She should be – that kick to his knee had hurt!

 

“Maui…I’m sorry,” she sighed, and he smiled at her.

 

“Apology accepted,” he said, maybe a bit too easily if the roll of her eyes was any indication.  “Now, do you want to hear my great, wonderful plan?”

 

It was simple, really: he had finally realized that there was nothing he could do to keep Moana from accompanying him on his adventures, and if he was honest about it he really didn’t want to.  After so many millennia alone, he was finding he liked having a companion.  While the bulk of his hero work still needed to be solo, Moana was helpful in her own way.  They just needed to work on a few things to insure her usefulness.  When she asked what exactly he meant by that, he had vaguely gestured to her.

 

“Well, here’s the thing, Mo,” he started.  “You’re tough.  And spunky.  And you’ve definitely got guts, and you’re pretty handy with that oar.  But…well, if you’re gonna be fighting big, scary monsters with me, you’re missing one crucial thing.”

 

“I’m going to try not to be insulted and just ask what that thing might be,” she said, and if her voice was a bit dryer than normal he pretended not to notice.

 

“It’s simple: you’re not big and scary!” he said, throwing his arms up in exasperation.  “I mean, look at you!  You’re actually really cute!”

 

…ok.  That wasn’t supposed to come out.  He was going to ignore the way she was blinking at him, and her face was definitely not turning red.  Nope.  His wasn’t feeling warmer, either.  So he coughed, gestured at her again, and said, “Like come on, Mo.  You befriended a demon frog in the Realm of Monsters and proceeded to have a hissy fit when it died.  Anything down there would take one look at you and think ‘Yummy Tasty Mortal Snack’, not ‘Oh Crap That Thing Can Kill Me’.  Now, me?  I think we’ve already established I’m kinda awesome.  Very intimidating, very scary – no one’s gonna look at me and think I’m a tasty treat.”

 

“Y’know, you could’ve left it with thinking I was cute,” she grumbled.  “It was only a little demeaning, but you just made it a lot worse.”

 

“So my plan,” he continued, plowing right over her protests, “is to make you scary!”

 

Aaaaaaand she was blinking again.  He was starting to second-guess this plan.  He didn’t think it was _that_ complicated, really.  And he knew she wasn’t stupid, so what was with all the _Are You Kidding Me?_ looks?

 

“I mean, we can’t really do a whole lot about making you big,” he said, waving at her body.  Her eyebrows were nearly into her hairline again, and he tilted his head to the side as he considered her.  She was definitely bigger than when they’d first met, a clear sign she was maturing into an adult, but she wasn’t _him_ big.  “Not that there’s anything wrong with your size, you’re just…you’re not even demigod big, so you’re definitely not monster big.  Nothing in Lalotai is going to take one look at you and go fleeing in terror based on your size.”

 

“Oh my gods, Maui, you are such an as-”

 

“So we’re going to focus on making you scary!” he continued, picking her up and swinging her around.  She shrieked again and shoved at him, and he laughed as he put her down.  “It’s simple, Mo!  It’s all about presentation, and like I said: you’re very intimidating, when you want to be.  But you’re not _scary_.  So we’re going to make you scary!”

 

She was stumbling a bit and holding her head, and he wondered if maybe he had spun her a bit too vigorously that time.  Huh.  She usually liked that.

 

“Maui, you are completely insane!  I do _not_ need to be –” she started, but he grabbed her again and directed her to a fallen log.  He pushed her down to sit before scuffling back a few steps.

 

“So, lesson number one!  Actually, it’s really the only lesson.  The big one, if you will,” he said, clapping his hands together.  He hunched down, spreading his arms and legs as if he were preparing to paint some elaborate tale.  She didn’t look even a little impressed, which was…kind of insulting.  “Size is one thing, yeah, but the key to being truly scary is what I like to call your Warrior Face.”

 

“…my Warrior Face,” she deadpanned, and he nodded.  She still didn’t seem impressed.  “Warrior Face.”

 

“Warrior Face,” he echoed, and she groaned as she leaned back, kicking her legs out in front of her and crossing them at the ankles.

 

“And what, pray tell, is a _Warrior Face_ , and does it sound as stupid as you’re making it?” she asked, head tipped back to look at the canopy above them.  He frowned.  Ok, she was definitely not taking this as seriously as she needed to.

 

“Come on, Moana!  What does it sound like?  Your _Warrior Face!_ ” he cried.  When she looked back to him, he gestured to his own face.  “See, what’s the first thing your enemy’s gonna see?  Your face!  And since he’s definitely not going to be intimidated by your size, you need to make your face as scary as you can possibly make it!”

 

Her eyebrows rose, her chin dropped, and while a fair amount of incredulity was radiating from her face, there was definitely nothing screaming _Warrior_ about it.

 

“Ok, that’s not it,” he said, pointing at her.  He sighed as he rubbed a hand against the back of his head.  It wasn’t a complicated subject, and he knew he could make her understand – but how?  It’s not like it was any different from…bingo!  He looked back at her and grinned.

 

“…why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, leaning back slightly, and his grin grew as he crouched lower and took a step forward.

 

“When you’re playing Chief,” he started, ignoring the way she started to protest over the notion that she was ‘playing’ Chief instead of actually being one, “you have to possess a certain air, right?  A look of authority and confidence that makes your people believe they should trust you and your decisions?  That face that says ‘I am Chief Moana of Motunui and My Word Is Law’?”

 

“That’s not exactly how it works,” she grumbled, “but yes.”

 

“So this is the same thing!  You have to look like the show-running boss I know you are!  You need to walk up to that monster with a look on your face that says ‘I am a Million Times Tougher Than You and I Own This’!” he said.  He began contorting his expression into an intimidating scowl he had perfected over the millennia.  He would have preened when she shrunk back in surprise if it wouldn’t have ruined the face.  “You take that authority, any fear you’re feeling, your pain, joy, rage – everything you’re feeling that would make that jerk think less of you and twist ‘em into one expression that says you, Moana of Motunui, mean business and own this place.  Then, to top it all off, you finish it with a roar.”

 

“…a roar?” she asked, and he nodded.

 

“A battle cry, if you will,” he said.  He scrunched his face up a bit more before letting out a very impressive, very intimidating roar – if the way she jumped and almost fell off the log was anything to go by.  He stood back up, folding his arms over his chest and smirking at her.  He nodded benevolently as she scrambled into a more confident sitting position.  “And you.”

 

She sighed and pushed herself off the log.  She glanced up at him, muttering how ridiculous this all was as she dusted off her skirt, but he just watched her expectantly.  With another sigh, she set her legs apart, clenched her fists, twisted her face, and cried: “Wah!”

 

“Oh, I think my bunny slippers just ran for cover,” he deadpanned, and she frowned at him.  He rolled his eyes before nodding.  “Try again.  Remember, you’re going for _scary_.”

 

“Wah!” she cried again, and he shook his head.

 

“Lower,” he instructed.

 

“Wah!” she tried, but it still wasn’t quite right.

 

“Stronger,” he said.  She rolled her eyes again and threw her arms up with another cry.  “Come on, Moana!  You’re not even trying!”

 

She frowned before closing her eyes and bowing her head.  She took a few deep, steadying breaths, schooled her expression, and then snapped her head back up with a somewhat intimidating look on her face while she shouted, “HA!”

 

“…better,” he commented, nodding in approval.

 

“You realize this is stupid, right?” she asked.  “I mean, I can fight.  I can be commanding enough when I need to be.  Just because I cried over a frog –”

 

“A demon frog,” Maui pointed out, poking her shoulder.  “In the middle of Lalotai.”

 

“Who saved our lives and was actually very, really cute,” she added, poking him in return.  “I don’t get what the big deal is.”

 

“The big deal is that I need to know you can handle yourself,” he said.  “Which…ok, admittedly, you can.  But a few extra tools in your repertoire can’t hurt, right?  So come on!  Show me your best Warrior Face!”

 

…three hours later and it wasn’t really going that well.  It’s not that she wasn’t able to – she was making a good effort, really – but she just wasn’t taking it seriously!  She had even taken to mocking his own Warrior Face for a good half hour at one point, turning every bit of scary intimidation into a silly face that was sure to make the village children laugh and giggle.  Which, again: would be great for story-telling, but not for fighting monsters!  After the hundredth or so failed attempt, he finally threw his arms up in frustration.

 

“That’s it!” he groaned.  “I quit!  You’re never going to do this right, so ok!  Get yourself killed if you want, I officially do not –”

 

He never saw it coming.

 

One minute he was ranting at Moana, and the next an unholy, screeching, “ _B-KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWK!!!_ ” sounded behind him.  He screamed – actually screamed, he, the Great Maui! – and jumped a good foot in the air.  He may or may not have landed behind Moana, and he most definitely _did not_ grab onto her shoulders as he hazarded a peek around her to find….Heihei.  Pecking at a boulder.  Chirruping like he hadn’t just scared the coconuts out of the Great Maui.  Moana snorted, clapping both hands over her mouth to hold the laughter in, and he gestured violently to the stupid chicken.

 

“See?!  Even Heihei’s scarier than you!” he cried, and she fell back against him as she clutched her stomach and laughed in earnest.

 

“Oh, yes, so scary!” she gasped.  “Like, so much worse than lava monsters and giant eels and – oh, no, Great Maui!  Save me from the terrifying Chicken of Death!”

 

She had started leaping at him, trying to scramble up his side as Heihei began clucking towards them.  He frowned as he automatically lowered a hand, giving her a foothold and a boost so she could climb to rest on his shoulder.  He wondered briefly when he had fallen so far to become an object of ridicule for a barely-out-of-her-diapers princess and a suicidal chicken.  He imagined it was sometime around thinking the mortals might like the gift of Creation.

 

“Are you done?” he groused, glancing up at her.  He winced as he felt something on his foot, and he looked down to find Heihei had begun pecking around his toes.  “Oh, come on, Drumstick!  I’m not food!  Mo, do you see what your chicken is doing now?  Do you –”

 

“B-KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWK!!!!”

 

He screeched again as the cry sounded directly in his ear.  He may have even jumped again.  He maybe even proceeded to toss a certain curly-haired princess into the lake.  Which, judging from the splash and gasping, waterlogged giggles, he _definitely_ proceeded to toss a certain curly-haired princess into the lake.  He glared after Heihei, who was clucking off as he pecked his way back to the village, before he turned back to Moana.  She was sitting in the shallows, doubled over as she clutched her stomach and laughed.

 

“M-Maui,” she gasped, “I finally figured it out!  I know your weakness!”

 

…say what now?

 

“Pfft,” he snorted, stalking over to her.  “I do not have any weaknesses!”

 

“You’re scared of chickens!” she cackled.  He raised an eyebrow at her, but she wouldn’t stop grinning.  When she finally calmed, she pulled some of her drenched hair away from her face to grin up at him.  She looked entirely too smug – an expression that was much more him and less her, and its presence on her face was disconcerting at best.  “So, how’d I do?”

 

“What?” he asked, and her grin grew.

 

“Well, was I scary?  I mean, you threw me in a lake, so I must have scared you!” she said.  She seemed entirely too pleased with herself at the thought.  “So?  How’s my Warrior Face?”

 

“That didn’t count!” he argued.  He grudgingly reached out a hand to help her up.  She grinned as she grasped it.

 

“Oh, so it is just because you’re scared of chickens?” she asked slyly.  He was halfway through pulling her up when he let go.  She fell back into the water with an undignified splash.  “M-Maui!”

 

“I think that’s enough for one day,” he said glibly.  “You keep working on it, Curly, and we’ll try again next time.  And I’m gonna find something really good for us to go after, so you best have your best Warrior Face ready!”

 

He grabbed his hook and began twirling it, marching away from the lake.  He heard her splashing around, trying to regain her footing, and he smirked as he began whistling.  Mock him, would she.  He’d show her.  She wasn’t the only stubborn one, after all.  (He ignored the way Mini Maui had begun kicking at his chest in protest, gesturing back to Moana and miming helping her up.  She could get herself out of the stupid lake if she was as competent as all that.)

 

“Maui, come on!  I was just joking!” she called, and he looked over his shoulder to find she was dripping her way over to him.  He spun the hook again, hoping he looked as nonchalant as he was trying to play.

 

“Nope, it’s ok!  You keep at it, Curly!  I’ll be back soon!  See you!” he said quickly before a flash of light engulfed him.  A moment later he was a hawk, shooting out of the canopy and towards open sky.

 

“M-Maui!  Oh, come on!  You big baby!  Come back here, you…you…” she was screaming after him, and he waited, circling above the trees.  It’s not like he was going to go too far, anyway.  He usually didn’t anymore.  “CHICKEN!”

 

…ok, if that’s what she wanted.

 

He morphed again, and he came crashing back to the ground as a giant Heihei.  He stared at Moana, blinking those weird, bulbous eyes that drumstick had, and she paused as she watched him.  He clucked a few times.  Pecked the ground beside her for emphasis.  She took a step back, gawking at him as he towered over her in his Giant Chicken of Death form, but then she schooled her expression.  Set her stance.  Clenched her fists, and twisted her features into what was possibly one of the scariest faces he had ever seen – including his own, and his was pretty darn good, if he did say so himself.

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!” she screamed, throwing her chest out and shouting at the top of her lungs.  He let out of a clucking screech and jumped, flapping his wings before he morphed in a flash of light and feathers.  When he appeared in his human form again, she was grinning at him expectantly.  He folded his arms over his chest and nodded, beaming at her with pride.

 

“Much better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hāwareware – Maori word for slimy, as in bodily fluid produced by eels/frogs/etc.  
> Hūpē – Maori word for mucus, as in: “It is not slime – it is mucus!”


End file.
